Senshi Shichi
by Fuzzy922
Summary: A little story I made up about seven killers that form a group. Hope you like, RR!


It was pitch black, the darkest Shoka had ever seen, or hadn't seen for that matter. She was gripping her sword as tightly as she could, and she was ready to draw it at any moment. A light breeze blew her long sapphire hair back as a voice finally broke the silence.

"Who are you." The question bounced off of the dark alley walls, and although it was a question, it sounded more like a statement. The voice sounded strong and courageous, and it unnerved Shoka for a moment until she regained her focus. She would find the one who killed her beloved Daisuke. And she would slaughter him.

"It doesn't matter. What really matters is who you are," Shoka replied, making certain that her voice was as bold as the other's had been, so as not to show weakness.

The other ignored her question completely and spoke again, calmly. She heard his footsteps coming closer to her. Instinctively, she stepped back a few. "I am a professional. I always know the name of my… guests."

"What do you mean by guests? I am not in your home. We are in an alley. Although I am not closing my mind to the possibility that this alley is what you would call home," Shoka dared, taking two more steps backward.

"Do not mock me. Despite your attitude, I know you are afraid."

"I am not afraid of the likes of you."

"Surely, if you were not frightened, you would not be drawing away from me," the voice echoed through the alley. Shoka silently cursed herself for acting cowardly towards an enemy and stood still.

"Surely," Shoka started, gripping her sword tighter, "if you came intending to kill me, you would've already done so."

The other was silent. After a moment of hesitation, Shoka heard the hushed clank of a gun being drawn and loaded, swiftly. She blinked and started to pull her sword, but found herself staring at the face of a young boy, feeling the cold end of a handgun pressed against the side of her head. "Then let's go," whispered a harsh voice into her ear.

Taken aback by the sudden swiftness of the boy, she quickly extracted her sword and pushed upward so as to cut the arm with the gun in it. Unfortunately, the boy rapidly pulled his arm away, as if he had predicted this exact move. Shoka felt upset that she had been attacked first and missed when the opportunity came to strike the boy.

Shoka ran forward towards the boy, and ducked as she heard the gun go off. Luckily, she was very agile and quick, and she would not soon forget the motive for her aggression.

The boy sprang backwards, dodging her sword and firing again. After a few moments of combat, Shoka spoke.

"Not quite fair to be using a firearm while your enemy has only a sword."

The boy hesitated with his reply, dodging another one of Shoka's jabs with her sword. After he fired again he answered her.

"I think it quite unfortunate that my enemy come as unprepared as to bring only a sword," the boy said, jumping onto a large crate to escape another thrust of her sword. Shoka paused for a split second, utterly insulted, before pouncing at the boy, swinging her sword even harder and more violently.

She suddenly felt something hard collide with the blade of her sword and it went flying out of her hand with a loud clang. Soon after, she was knocked down onto the cold, hard ground, panting loudly. She tried to pull herself up with her elbows for support, but she was pushed back down onto the ground, her head hitting the stone beneath her, and the end of the gun bearing down on her forehead. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and she saw the face of the young boy again, a fierce look in his eyes.

"I… win…" the boy panted, one of his arms holding the gun against her head and the other restraining her arms above her head.

"How humiliating," Shoka whispered, diverting her eyes. "Defeated by a boy… you can't be older than fourteen."

"Sixteen, actually," the boy replied, snarling.

"My mistake," Shoka retorted, her voice farthest from an apologetic tone. "May I know the name of my captor?"

"Captor? No, I do not intend to capture you," the boy whispered, again ignoring her request for his name. "I intend to kill you."

"Not to worry, I had the same intentions," Shoka admitted, bitterly. "What I am having trouble believing is that a boy of only sixteen would really kill a girl. Not to mention one that is older than him."

"Really, is that so?" the boy asked, almost interested. His lackadaisical attitude shortly returned, though. "I am a professional assassin, and although I am young, I at least know to never underestimate the enemy."

"What is your name?" Shoka repeated, ignoring his insult.

"Tell me who you are and what your mission is, and I might spare you."

"Feeling generous tonight, are we?" Shoka ridiculed.

"Don't push your luck," he said, tightening the trigger slightly.

"My name is Shoka. Someone very close to me was murdered six months ago. Ever since, I have devoted myself to finding his killer… and slaying him," Shoka answered, gritting her teeth slightly.

"Awww," the boy said in a sarcastic voice, "Did the big bad wolf come and kill someone you loved? Oh boohoo, cry me a fucking river. Both my parents were killed when I was nine years old."

Shoka kept quiet. The boy stared at her for a moment, as if waiting for her to reply. Then he finally let his grip on her arms ease and he withdrew the gun from her forehead. Although she could've if she wanted to, she did not rise.

"What are you waiting for," the boy said, once again pretending this question was nothing more than a statement. "I let you go. Now go before I change my mind."

"Your name," Shoka said, staring at him.

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked at her for a moment, as if silently deciding whether he should tell her or not.

"Satoshi," the boy whispered.

"Well it was nice to meet you… Satoshi," Shoka replied.

Satoshi started intently at her for a moment, and then jumped up and stood before her, his silvery white hair sticking up all over the place. Shoka reached for her sword and slowly stood up.

"So… you're hunting someone down, are you?" Satoshi said, glancing at the sword in her hand. Shoka was sure she saw a nervous glint pass through his eyes but maybe not.

"Yes," she said, putting her sword back into its sheath. "Why?"

"Well… no offense or anything… you're not the best fighter in the world," Satoshi said, glancing back at her sword, which was now safely put away. He slowly put his gun back in its holster. "If you go around starting fights like this, you're going to get killed."

"You sound too sure."

"Trust me," Satoshi said, "you _will_ be killed if you get into fights like this."

"I can take care of myself!" Shoka said, offended. She rapidly reached up to slap him, but his hand shot out and caught her by the wrist.

"No, you can't," Satoshi answered, shaking his head, smiling.

"Let go of me!" Shoka screamed, trying to wrench her hand out of his grip. To her surprise, he gripped her wrist even tighter and pulled her forward so that their faces were an inch apart. And to her even greater surprise, he closed his eyes and he pressed his lips against hers, kissing her intently, his one arm still gripping her wrist and his other on her back.

When he finally pulled his lips away from hers, he leaned closed to her ear. "Let me kill your enemies," he whispered in her ear. He loosened the grip on her wrist so that she could have pulled away if she had wished. Tears suddenly came to her eyes. This boy, younger than herself, that she barely even knew, that had moments before tried to kill her, was the first person she'd kissed since Daisuke died.

"Why are you doing this," she half-whispered, half-cried, covering her face. This boy was a killer, and for a killer to see an enemy cry was like waving a steak in front of a starving dog.

"I am a professional killer, and I'm a great fighter. I understand how you feel. I can kill anyone you want me to kill."

"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW I FEEL!" Shoka screamed, suddenly pulling away from him. "HOW CAN YOU EVEN SAY THAT!"

Satoshi hesitated, his eyes narrow, frowning at her. He looked distant, and his face had the slightest flash of anger in it.

"I lost people that I loved, too, you know," he said, finally. "You're not the only one in the whole fucking world who's ever cared about someone that died. So don't act like the entire world revolves around you and your loss."

Shoka looked up at him, her tear-stained face taking an almost puzzled look. She was lost for words, so Satoshi continued.

"Let me come with you. Let me kill your enemies. Let me be your protector."

"…Don't understand…" Shoka whispered under her breath.

"Fine. You want to go out there alone? You want to die a painful, mournful, unsatisfying death? You want to be slaughtered, just like the one YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE AVENGING?" Satoshi said, his voice changing from a calm voice to a shout.

Shoka hesitated, staring at him. His face was full of anger. "Come with me."

His face softened for a moment and she continued.

"Come with me, but if I die, I'm dragging you down to Hell with me."

"Then let's ride," Satoshi said, walking past her out into the dirt street. Shoka saw only his silhouette in the glow of the moonlight, the chains hanging from his pants and his hair sticking out every which way.


End file.
